Country fun

What we did last night has caused me to reflect on how small town and country kids learn to entertain themselves.

City kids have malls, skate parks, clubs, all that stuff.

Country kids have fire pits, tractors, wide open spaces, canyons, empty pop bottles and dry ice.

Thats right, I said empty pop bottles and dry ice. Makes a nice loud noise when thrown into water.

We also have Snipe Hunts. I don't care if you city folks have snipe hunts, nothing beats a snipe hunt in the middle of a full section of corn.

For those of you who don't know what a snipe hunt is... well. First of all you pick some young gullible kid, and start talking about what great fun snipe hunting is. Also talk up what tasty eating snipe is.

Then, when they practically beg you to take them with you, you give them a flash light, and a pillow case or burlap sack. You find the biggest corn field out in the middle of nowhere, and you trek to the middle of the field. Bonus points if its irrigated and muddy.

Then you tell them to hunker down somewhere in between the rows, hold the sack open in the next row over, and shine the flash light through the back of the sack. Snipe are attracted to light, you see. Kind of like bugs.

Then you tell them to wait, and you're going to go stake out your own row. Warn them that as soon as they get a snipe they have to twist the sack closed, and beat it against the ground several times. Don't let the snipe sit for long in there or it'll tear its way out, they've got sharp little beaks and they'll tear you up.

Then you wander off and leave them for several hours. Either they'll be hiking their way back to town when you come back for them (the smarter ones, the ones who will recruit new people to go snipe hunting next month) or they'll still be hunkered down in the mud, shivering and patiently waiting for snipe to wander by. Or, if you've taught them some ridiculous "snipe call" they'll be repeating it, over and over again.

Its a rite of passage, sort of like buying your first box of condoms at the drug store. And then listening to your parents lecture you when they find out about it.

Yay! I'm back!

Sorry for the dearth of posts lately, its been busy and I haven't had anything interesting to talk about.

I still don't, but in the name of keeping from being entirely labeled a bad, bad blogger, I thought I'd post something anyway.

Got a friend in to help with some saddle time on the horses, we went riding this afternoon. Not as energetic a ride as it could have been, but fun, as we worked a few kinks out of the more stubborn of my four legged children.

V is an excellent horsewoman. Wish I could be more like her (that would be why I'm going to school, though, right?) Thanks V!

The reason we weren't as energetic as we might have been might have had something to do with last night. See, since V is a mutual friend of me and T, we decided to have a shindig last night just for fun. So, we gathered up some wood, made a fire, made roasting sticks out of heavy wire, and had hotdogs and s'mores.

Oh, and alcohol.

I'm amazed everyone still has their eyebrows this morning. I'm kind of amazed that I still have all bones in one piece, considering two beers into the thing I decided that the way to gather firewood was to climb a dead tree, grab onto a limb, and jump down.

It worked, I tell you!

A good time was had by all and I got some nifty pictures of T over the fire pit in the glow of the flames, and one that I had to use the flash on because the fire had died too much to give good light of V on T's shoulders. Another reason I couldn't get it without the flash is the long shutter time made it impossible to hold completely still long enough. I was laughing too hard.

T dared us to go into the abandoned house, we got two rooms in when we heard something moving behind us. By the light of T's cell phone we discovered... a snake. Now, I'm not scared of snakes but I'm not fond of them. I leave them alone as long as they're not rattlers and they leave me alone. But in the middle of the night, in an enclosed space, with a snake on the COUNTER.... No. I chose the better part of valor and told the snake he could have the house, and V and I went back to the fire. Only to hear the snake start hissing, loudly, when we were twenty feet away, because T was trying to pick it up.

Points to the snake, he wrapped himself around something and refused to let go, thus winning the battle.

After the fire died, we went back to T's and watched Lone Star State of Mind, which is hilarious in that dumb movie kind of way. We all piled on the couch to watch it, because T is such a pimp, he he had two women flaked out on him at once. Course, V kept biting him when he jumped the gun on reciting parts of the movie because I hadn't seen it yet, and I'd pull his leg hairs when he did it, so he kind of got the short end of the stick.

A good time was had by all, no one got injured and we had lots of laughs. Who says you need a crowd to have fun?

Concealed Carry

This is a subject that crops up in my thoughts from time to time, seeing as how I do have a concealed carry permit.

The direction of my thoughts today are not the why, but the how.

See, we setters don't have as many options for concealed carry as the pointers do, simply because of how we're built, and how clothes are designed to fit us.

So far, I've only discovered a few that work effectively, and even those are bound by certain things I just can't do and keep my concealed weapon concealed. A couple of these are listed here, and I'd be glad to hear any suggestions from my readers on expanding or altering these.

Shoulder holster. I don't personally use this one, as I haven't yet found a shoulder rig thats built for women, much less one as small as I am. Custom work is an option, but I haven't had the money, or the access to someone who can do the work, to try it out. The difficulty that I see for the average woman in these is twofold. Fit, and angle. The angle is important, because frankly, no one wants to catch a boob in their gun. This same problem rears its head with hip holsters. Not to mention the boobs getting in the way of the draw in the first place. Also, wearing a jacket or such at all times is just not practical in summer heat.

Inside the waistband holster. I've used this, and its the best method I've found for myself personally, although I do have a few requirements that others don't. I use what I've been told is called a "cavalry" draw. I'm right handed, and as a child I broke my right arm in such a way that I don't have complete movement of it at the shoulder. So when I draw, the options are limited. many carry styles leave me sweeping areas around me with the barrel of my gun that I don't want to. As such, I carry in the small of my back, with the gun positioned so that my right hand goes between my body and the grip, and my draw is out, down to my side, and up to firing stance. However, this carry has dress requirements as well. I have to wear a baggy shirt to cover the imprint of the gun. Not a big thing, in the scheme of things, but annoying enough when I really want to wear something a little cooler.

The major problems for women in concealed carry, as I see them, are the chest and the hips. Hip carry sticks the butt of the gun out, or shoves it into a woman's side, depending on her own build and how low on her hips her pants or jeans ride. Shoulder holsters, and some hip holsters, pose the problem of the breasts simply getting in the way of the draw. No matter how big or small you are in that area, they get in the way. If men wish to understand this, borrow a female friend's bra, stuff it with whatever is handy, and attempt to do the things you normally do. And remember, breasts don't just stick out in front, they stick out to the sides as well, stuff accordingly. Better yet, have said female friend help you make it as anatomically correct as possible.

(From the stories that Farmmom has told me of her classes when she became a posse member on the Sheriff's department, this should be a requirement for male firearms instructors. So should having the skin of their chest right by the armpit pinched in the hammer of their gun.)

Like I said, any suggestions or comments are welcome.

And, if any of the male readers are brave enough to try the experiment I mentioned, I want video!

I still don't like cities...

You know, a city is a nice place to visit, what with all the shopping and restaurants and such right there. It could spoil someone used to driving forty five minutes (longer, with the road construction) to get to Wal-Mart and Micky D's.

If it weren't for the people.

I swear, I don't know what happens to city people that's different from small town people, but jeez those folks have bad attitudes.

If city people were half as polite as small town people, I'd probably live closer to a city. Not in it, of course, I like my elbow room, but closer.

The Springs was fun, we had lunch at Joe's Crab Shack, then spent an hour and a half searching for a club that no longer exists, then gave up and hit a pool hall for a while before finding a liquor store and heading back to the hotel.

Did you know that Go Fish makes a heck of a drinking game?

I bought a new top while we were up there, after being mistaken for an Old Navy employee. Now, I don't consider myself to be a trend setter or very fashion conscious at all, but I like to think I have my own unique style, aside from "work clothes."

Being mistaken for a fashion drone pushed my buttons, so I went to Hot Topic and bought a pink plaid corset top.

I got looks almost as weird at Hot Topic flipping through what I like to think of as the "hussy" clothes in the outfit that got me mistaken for fashion drone status as I did when I wore the new top out to the pool hall.

I also got a random comment as we walked by a group in the pool hall, from a girl.... "Damn, girl, you need to eat some beans, or somethin."

The guy she was sitting by said "No she don't, she needs to give me her number!"

From the sound I heard, he got smacked.

But I felt better.....

I need older friends...

Headed off to Colorado Springs for the afternoon and tonight in a bit, going to hang out with T, go out dancing, and generally have a good time and behave irresponsibly.

Unfortunately T is only twenty so I had to search all day yesterday to find a couple of places that allowed 18+ in. One of them is probably going to be a juice bar type place, no alcohol, and one of them is a Carribean style club which sounds like a lot of fun. We'll see how things work out, and what we can find otherwise.

Anyway I'll be gone tonight and part of tomorrow, but I'll try to have something interesting to post tomorrow afternoon or evening. If nothing else I'm sure I'll manage to embarrass T in a big way at some point, I usually do.

Aunt Jerry

All my life, I've had an Aunt Jerry. Aunt Jerry isn't related by blood, but by love, and has always been a fixture, and the one who spoiled myself, and my brother, unmercifully.

Oh, and Aunt Jerry is a man. He's the roughest, toughest old style cowboy I've ever found in north Texas, and he does a fabulous Reba MacEntire impersonation.

It never seemed strange to call the cowboy with the chest hair peeking out of his shirt collar "aunt," mostly because thats what I always knew him by, and my parents never made a big deal out of it. When my brother and I were old enough to understand that there was something "different" about Aunt Jerry, and ask questions, he answered them honestly, fully, and always.

I love my Aunt Jerry.

He also has a very twisted sense of humor about his sexuality, when he wants to. Homophobes beware, he'll turn from down home country cowboy to flaming butt pirate in 2.5 seconds, if you can't treat him as a human being.

Most guys my age who have met him, generally push past a slight homophobia when they find out that years ago, he was married to a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader, if only to ask him what the hell he was thinking, being gay.

Aunt Jerry claims veto rights on my boyfriends, which is why he rarely gets to meet any of them (ok so they don't always last long enough to make it to that stage...) This story shows exactly why I take care who I introduce to my favorite Aunt....

A few years ago, I was dating a kid from up by Pueblo... not much of a cowboy, but he knew what to say to get my attention, and I was young and stupid. Still am, but I hope I've learned some lessons along the way.

Wes was in need of a job, so I got him in on flagging, and the Farm Parents agreed to let him stay with us until he could get a place of his own. Except somehow it never happened.

He would sit around, drink beer, and watch tv all day, not help out around the house, not pay rent, and generally just leech off of anything he could find. By the time we went to Aunt Jerry's house for an evening, we'd already had a couple of discussions about this. Farm Mom was getting pretty exasperated.

So, we haul him with us for dinner with Aunt Jerry and his boyfriend, on Jerry's ranch out in the middle of nowhere.

As we walked in the door, Jerry brushed aside both of my parents, his long time friends, and picked me up in a big bear hug, exclaiming over how beautiful I was getting, and bemoaning the fact that I didn't dress to show off my figure, as he always does. Then he turned to Wes.

"So this is the boyfriend, huh?" Jerry stuck out his hand to shake Wes's, and Wes, knowing from talking to me how important this man was to me, stepped forward with a smile, holding out his own hand.

Jerry did something I'd half expected, and decided to "play" with Wes.

At the last second, Jerry changed direction, and grabbed Wes's crotch.

He spent a moment feeling around with a puzzled, thoughtful expression on his face.

"Where is it?? Did you leave it at home?? Farmgirl... do you have it?!?"

At this point I was shaking my head over Jerry's antics, knowing he was just playing around, but Wes was terrified. His smile was half frozen on his face, his eyes looked as if he might bolt for the back forty, and his hand was still hovering, outstretched, to shake a hand that wasn't there. A strange man had hold of a favorite part of his anatomy, was insulting said favorite part, and to top it all off, Jerry had thrown in just a dash of his you-go-girlfriend gay attitude.

"I... Um.... That is...."

"That, honey, is not a dick. I'll show you a dick. TONY! Come in here, darlin, and show this boy what a grown up looks like."

At this point, I had to step in, before I had to track Wes across half of Texas when he spooked.

"Aunt Jerry, I'm young and impressionable, I don't need to see that."

"Oh, you're right, fine, fine. But does your boy toy at least know how to use it??"

"I wouldn't know."

"Good girl. Come on folks, steaks are almost done!"

Jerry played nice as everyone ate dinner and had a couple of beers. Later on in the evening Jerry put some music on, and herded everyone into dancing, at which point he decided that he simply must teach Wes how to dance properly.

So he taught Wes a ballroom style dip.

By dipping Wes.

Repeatedly.

When Wes started getting uncomfortable with the whole process, my much loved Aunt looked down at him from the upper hand of the dip, gave him a sultry wink, and said in a low, seductive tone "You're cute when you blush."

Wes struggled out of Jerry's grip, ended up on the floor, and spent the rest of the night sulking because I was laughing too hard to help him up.

He didn't last long after that night, and shortly I'd chalked him up as one of those young and stupid mistakes we all make, and moved on. Jerry helped me realize the mistake sooner than I might have, and I still chuckle to myself every time I think of the deer in the headlights expression on Wes's face when "the gay dude" had ahold of his tallywhacker, making comments to the room at large.

I love my Aunt Jerry.

Silence

Hey folks, just dropping a line to say I AM alive still... just been really busy and really exhausted when I'm not running my butt off, so I fall into bed like a sack of potatoes.

I do have several ideas fomenting in the back of my head for good long story updates, I promise! I just have to get one of them to ferment past the vague cloudy stage and into the put it down in words stage.

I'll try to do that tomorrow (blessed day off, how I adore thee!) because I hear the ugly mutterings about torches and pitchforks, and I like my skin the way it is.